The Simple Solution
by Carmendee
Summary: Now, don't we all think that there was a pretty simple solution to Lilly and Oliver's problem in The Way We Almost Weren't? One-shot. Loliver


_Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana._

Best friends Oliver Oken and Lilly Truscott were stuck, in more ways than one. The genius he was, Oliver had gotten himself super glued to a chair. The good friend she was, Lilly-in an attempt to help Oliver-also found herself super glued to a chair. But things did not end there. The two had decided to look for some nail polish remover in hopes of solving their problem, only to find themselves in a bigger conundrum than before. They had made it into their best friend Miley's bathroom, begun to search for nail polish remover, and allowed the closet door to close behind them. The nail polish remover was nowhere to be found, so they started to leave the bathroom. Then they remembered that the lock on the door was broken, and would not allow anyone inside the bathroom to exit. Thus, Lilly and Oliver reached another level of stuck-ness.

Now, the situation was pretty bad, but one aspect made it even more frustrating. There was another way to exit the bathroom. Great, right? Wrong. In the bathroom was a high window that opened to the balcony, to freedom; a window that either Lilly or Oliver could easily fit through. Well, they could easily fit through it if they weren't stuck to chairs. But they were. So they couldn't. They were simply left to stare longingly up at the window, dreaming of what could not be.

QXQ

"I hate you," Lilly seethed at her crazy boyfriend. No. Wait. That was wrong. Friend. She meant friend. Oliver was her _friend. _She definitely did not think of him in the romantic sense. Nope. Not at all. Because that would be ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. _Whatever you say, Lilly._

"Seventy-six," murmured Oliver Oken to his best friend, "Now that must be some sort of record. Ladies rarely hate the Smoken-Oken."

"Oh, Oliver, I'm positive that I am not the first girl to hate 'Smoken-Oken'; you are just much too dense to correctly interpret any female's actions." Lilly bit out, glaring at Oliver, "By the way, when a girl tells you to 'stay the hell away from her' or else she'll 'call the cops' that is just another way of saying 'I HATE YOU!'"

"Is that seventy-seven? Because I can't really tell if you were actually proclaiming your hate for me or pretending to speak as a police-calling-girl, which by the way only happened one time," Lilly gave him a look, "okay twice," Lilly rolled her eyes, "fine! Three times!" he paused, looking to Lilly, who nodded, a satisfied expression on her face.

"And it _definitely _was seventy-seven. I hate you. Ooh! Seventy-eight. Shall I try for one-hundred before it gets dark out?" Lilly arched an eyebrow at Oliver, no trace of mirth on her face.

Oliver looked away from her; he was actually starting to feel pretty guilty. He knew how much Lilly adored Maroon 5; the concert meant a lot to her and because of his admittedly idiotic actions she was going to miss it. She was upset, which was horrible because all he wanted was for her to be happy. Well, it wasn't _all _he wanted, because the two were just friends and it would be weird if his only desire in life was for his _friend_ to be happy. Because, that was something boyfriends were supposed to desire, and sadly, he wasn't Lilly's boyfriend; wait, no! Not _sadly._ He didn't want to be her boyfriend because they were friends, just friends. _Okay Oken_. But back to what he was saying, he was definitely going to have to come up with a way to make it up to her; starting with getting them out of the mess he had gotten them into. What could they possibly do to separate their bodies from these chairs? Well, technically, it wasn't their bodies that were stuck to the chairs, only their clothes, and they could easily get out of their cloth…

Oliver's train of thought trailed off abruptly. No way. Lilly would never go for it. In fact, she may strangle Oliver for even suggesting such a thing. But, the Maroon 5 concert didn't start for an hour and a half; if she did agree to his idea, they could still make it. Even though Oliver knew exactly what Lilly would tell him to do with his idea, he figured he might as well try. After all, what did he have to lose? Well, except for his life, but Lilly wouldn't really strangle him. Right? Right? _Sure._

"Umm, Lils?" Oliver began, trying to soften her up by using her nickname from childhood.

"What?" Lilly barked at him, annoyance apparent in both her tone and her glare.

"You know, there _is _a simple solution to get us out of these chairs and make it to the concert."

"There is?! Then why the heck didn't you say something sooner? Or are you such a masochist that you wanted to prolong this experience as much as possible?"

"Well," Oliver looked down, not meeting Lilly's eyes, "I was thinking that the only thing holding us to these chairs is our clothes, so if we took off our clothes…" Oliver let his words hang in the air, not completing the statement, nor daring to meet Lilly's gaze.

"Ugh! You pervert! No! No way! Nuh-uh! Not gonna happen!" Lilly's voice had raised a few octaves, and Oliver regretted his suggestion, "There has to be another way." Her voice came out in a wail.

"Lilly, there is no other way. Well, I guess we could just sit and wait for the Stewarts to come home, of course that is not going to be anytime soon, and if we did that we would miss the concert." Oliver looked toward Lilly, and was shocked, but not displeased, to realize that she actually seemed to be considering his idea. "It's not really that big of a deal, I mean we have taken baths together."

"Yeah Oliver, when we were four!" Lilly shouted, "I think that this is a bit different," she paused and took a deep breath, "But you are right, this is the only way. Okay. I'll do it."

"You will?" Oliver squeaked, then cleared his throat and said in his normal voice, "I mean yes, you will. We will. It's no big deal." If only he really believed that.

"Oookay then," Lilly started, "I guess we should do this."

"Yup." Oliver replied uncomfortably. He looked up and blanched when he saw that Lilly was taking off her pink and green top. Whoa.

Lilly pulled her arms through her top, desperately wishing that she had worn layers today instead of a stupid shirt sewn to look as if it were layered. What the heck is the point of that?! She pulled her top over her head, blushing as she realized she was wearing the only lacy bra she owned. Of course. She didn't dare look at Oliver; instead she proceeded to pull off her brown skater shoes and her brown cargo capris. Oh God. Was she really wearing the lace trimmed cheekies Miley had forced her to purchase at Victoria's Secret? Why today? This was possibly the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

Unbeknownst to her, Oliver completely disagreed. This was possibly- no make that definitely- the single greatest thing that had ever happened to him. He had been to the beach with Lilly many times, but, in true Lilly fashion, she usually wore board shorts and a tankini top. Seeing Lilly in her bra and panties was _extremely _different. She was breathtaking, and it took Oliver a great effort to tear his eyes away before she caught him staring. He quickly pulled off his striped shirt, checkered vans, and skinny jeans. He looked up to find Lilly standing over him, her arms wrapped around her body. "Well," Oliver said, "Looks like my plan worked, we're out of the chairs."

"Yeah. So," she began, trying to act casual despite the fact that Oliver's six-pack (since when does he have a six-pack?) was exposed, "which one of us is going out the window?"

"Uhh…" Oliver forced himself to process her words instead of stare at her body, "You go. After all you are the cheerleader. You know, flexible and all that."

"Sure," Lilly replied, taking a step toward the window, "Will you help me get up there?"

"Of course," Oliver kneeled down on one knee between her and the wall and patted his leg, "Hop on Lilly."

Lilly hesitated for a moment, apprehensive about being so close to Oliver when both were so _bare. _She shook the thought from her head and placed a foot on Oliver's leg propelling herself up toward the window. "I can't quite reach it Oliver. Can you lift me up higher?"

"Totally!" Oliver exclaimed a little too eagerly. He put his hands on Lilly's upper thighs, easily lifting the light girl closer to the window. As he raised Lilly higher, he was greeted by the sight of her bottom, encased in pink lace trimmed cheekies from Victoria's Secret. Not that he knew what kind of lingerie Victoria's Secret offered or anything. He didn't, like, look at the catalogues. _Of course not_.

"Whoo! I can reach now." Lilly said as she pulled herself from Oliver's grasp. She was relieved to no longer have Oliver touching her because, to be honest, his hands on her body felt a bit _too _nice. "I'll come open the door for you, Ollie!" Lilly shouted to Oliver who was staring up at the window, disappointed at the loss of his wonderful view.

A few seconds later, the bathroom door swung open revealing Lilly, still clad only in her bra and panties. "All right," Lilly stated, only then remembering their shared state of undress, "I guess we should borrow clothes from Miley and Jackson before we get going."

"Mmm," Oliver muttered, distracted by Lilly's body.

"Oliver!" Lilly shouted. His eyes immediately darted up to her face. She glared and crossed her arms over her body. Gosh, how hard was it to not stare? Okay, it was pretty hard; she was doing everything in her power to keep her gaze off of Oliver's body. Of course thinking that made her glance down, once again taking in his magnificent six-pack. Unfortunately, Oliver caught her looking.

"Like what you see Truscott?" He teased, enjoying the color that filled her cheeks.

"You wish," Lilly replied, "I was just wondering how a sixteen-year-old could possibly be so underdeveloped."

"Liar." Oliver smiled, happy to know he wasn't the only one enjoying the view. He stepped closer to Lilly, their bodies almost touching. Neither teenager was looking at the other's body now; the two were gazing intently into one another's eyes. The moment seemed to drag on forever; as the minds of both of the friends raced, wondering what was going to happen. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, their lips connected in a searing kiss. It was impossible to tell who started the kiss, and it really didn't matter. Lilly wrapped her arms around Oliver's neck and he placed his around her waist, both enjoying the moment. Yeah, who started the kiss definitely didn't matter.

Eventually, in desperate need of oxygen, the two broke apart. They simply stood; bodies still wrapped together, foreheads touching. It was Oliver who broke the silence.

"Why Lillian Truscott," he asked in a girly southern accent, "Do you fancy me?"

Lilly just smirked at and gave her crazy boyfriend a quick peck on the lips, "Why aren't I surprised that I am going to have to wear the pants in this relationship?"

"Oh no," Oliver replied, "No need to wear pants. I much prefer you in cheekies."

Lilly opened her mouth to protest, but didn't get the chance. Oliver united their lips again, basking in the feeling of his girlfriend pressed up against him. _Thank God for simple solution, _he thought_, and cheekies._

**_Thanks for reading._**


End file.
